You belong with me
by queenofclichayy
Summary: Sometimes all it takes it a push in the right direction from a friend to realise who you truly belong with and it surely isn't that party animal Hermione. Any accidental similarities to Taylor Swift's song are entirely coincidental, hehe.


_**T for swearing and sex references. **_

**You belong with me**

Harry was in hell. Not literally of course, even though he had basically committed murder, by killing the Dark Lord.

But Harry's hell was far more metaphorical and took it's form in his best mate (Ron) and his other mate (Hermione) who he liked far less, because she was a girl and just didn't get him like Ron did. Also, he liked Ron and yearned for a touch of those exquisite freckled hands.

Ron paced back and forth like well-built digger. He and Hermione were on their wizard phones and Harry was listening to their arguement through the beautiful mask of those wonderful red, velveteen curtains.

"Geez, Hermione, it was joke!" Ron said, pissed off like a hornet. Hermione's voice squeaked back something and Ron told her to piss off and hung up.

"FUCK." Ron whispered, quietly.

Harry sat up, unimaginatively, "What is up?" Harry asked, dropping the old "I'm asleep act."

"It's bloody Hermione. She's all up in my grill for that joke I made about Lavender and how I totally went there. Score. It's like she doesn't find my jokes about my sexual escapades with my ex funny or some shit like that!"

Harry remembered the joke. It was hilarious and he'd laughed at Ron's freckled, good wit for hours after the joke had been told.

"She doesn't get you mate. I know I've previously always been supportive of your relationship, but I've thought about it and I've made the decision you should probably break up." It was a bold move, but Harry was a bold guy and also the boy who lived and that counted for something or other, right?

"What? Harry, you don't get to decide that for me-"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay." Said, Ron submissively. He didn't care much anyway. He secretly yearned for the loins that lived anyway.

"I think you need someone else mate. Hermione wears short skirts and high heals. You want someone who wears t-shirt and sneakers, whatever the hell they are." Harry said, nonchalantly, kind of hoping Ron would use that freckled brain of his and catch on. He'd thrown all his short skirts and heals out so he could point this out to Ron. His cross-dressing was out from now on and now it was all about t-shirts and "sneakers".

Ron nodded and sat down on his own bed.

"And you're nothing alike. I mean, what do you reckon she's doing on a typical Tuesday night like today?" Harry asked, queerly.

"Probably out at some wizard party, getting down with some sexy, older warlock." Ron said, reluctantly, his face reminiscent of an unhappy squirrel.

"Yeah, exactly, while we're doing homework!" Harry smirked, "I bet she wouldn't like the music we have on now. She doesn't even like The Beatles and Mumford and Sons. I bet she likes mainstream pop. Urgh, Harry spits on mainstream pop." Harry said, shifting to third person 'cause it seemed like one of those moments when it was appropriate to do so.

Ron sniggered at Harry's excellent observation and it lighted up the whole town in Harry's opinion WHICH WAS LAW. He hadn't seen Ron's smile in a while as that BITCH Hermione had been bringing him down so much with her unfair demands of love and affection.

Suddenly his smile drooped like a piece of demotivated elastic and Harry moved over and sat on Ron's bed instead. "You okay, mate?"

"I'm fine."

"I know you better than that, mate. What're you doing with HER?" Harry asked, extra emphasis on her gender and all that jazz. "I mean, look at all that hair. I bet that's not the only place she's-"

"Harry!" Ron said, giggling at Harry's incredible hilarity. How Harry wasn't a signed Wizard comedian, Ron would never know. He always made Ron laugh when he was about to CRY like a miserable eagle.

"Oh look Ron, your favourite Mumford and Sons song is on, "Thistle and weeds", you're so original. Most people only know "White Blank page" and "The Cave".

It was just like Harry to know all of his favourite songs. Harry always listened, unlike that bossy, bodder Hermione. This only reconfirmed his solid idea that he and Harry were meant for each other.

Harry leaned in, despite having no concrete evidence that Ron saw him in that light whatsoever and planted a wet, slobbery kiss on Ron's face. It was like being kissed by an affectionate puppy, not that Ron was into that.

"You belong with me." Harry said, just assuming Ron was into it. How could anyone NOT enjoy a kiss from the chosen one?

"Yes, yes, I do." He said, pulling out his phone and ringing Hermione. "Fuck you Hermione, it's over. I'm done with you." Hermione started yelling some shit at them, but they couldn't hear her over all the sexy making out they were doing.

Harry-1, Hermione-0.


End file.
